It's Only Football
by Maryilee
Summary: Takes place immediately after the pilot episode. Eric introspective. Does contain mild spoilers.


Coach Eric Taylor exited the hospital. He paused to take a deep breath, trying in vain to get rid of the antiseptic smell still lingering. The night was cool and clear, a beautiful evening. It should have been a night full of celebration but was filled instead with sorrow and fear. He heard the door open behind him and turned slightly to see, Tami and their daughter, Julie step onto the sidewalk beside him. He gave them a smile; at least, he tried to but the act took too much effort. He buried his hands in his pockets, a lump of pain in his throat and looked away. He vaguely remembering parking his car somewhere in the hospital parking lot.

"Hey," Tami said, rubbing her hand up and down his arm.

Eric turned to her and the sadness and understanding in her eyes was more than he could handle right then. He looked down and scuffed his toe on the pavement, sending a pebble skittering away and lightly pinging against the undercarriage of someone's car. He sighed. "I'll meet you at home a little later."

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know. I just…" his voice trailed away as he scrubbed a hand down his face. He just needed some time to be alone.

"Hon?" Tami stepped closer, her hand coming up to cup his cheek. "I'll wait up for you."

He angled his head, gently rubbing against her hand and closing his eyes for a second. "Thanks, babe."

With a last lingering look, Tami turned towards Julie, who had been standing back, looking in towards the waiting room. There were still some kids hanging around, but most had left. "Come on, Julie."

Eric watched them walk towards Tami's car before heading towards his own.

He drove mindlessly for almost an hour before he found himself at the football field. The field lights were off, the clean-up crew was gone and everything was quiet. Navigating through the dark with the aid of the light from the parking lot, Eric stepped onto the field.

Closing his eyes, he heard again, the roar of the crowd, the harsh breathing of the players as they ran down the field and the heavy thunk of pads meeting pads. The image of Street lying motionless on the ground while the play continued without him would stay with Eric for a lifetime. He felt guilty for briefly hoping it was another player before he had pushed that thought out of his mind and called for the trainer. He knew he would never wish a spinal injury on anyone but Street was special. He was almost like a son to Eric. He had coached him through pee-wee and on up through high school. He had seen and marveled at the potential of the young man. Not only did he have phenomenal talent, but he was a _good_ kid.

Before tonight's game, Eric had sought out his starting quarterback to give him encouragement. He was touched that Street had done the same for him. They both knew this was going to be _their_ season. The season they had worked so hard to prepare for. Now, Street would not be a part of it.

Eric sank down onto the bench and clasped his hands behind his head, his elbows propped on his knees. Crickets chirped and frogs croaked; the sounds calming and peaceful. Kneading the back of his neck, he felt the hot, stinging threat of tears and closed his eyes tightly, unwilling to let them fall. It wasn't _fair_. Street's future was now uncertain and he didn't think he'd ever forget the look of grief on Mrs. Street's face. He had felt Jason's dad trembling when he had given him a hug. Eric had tried to reassure him, but the terror in the other man's eyes had remained. No parent should have to go through that.

Eric took a deep, shuddering breath and straightened, his hands dropping to his lap. He supposed he should be relieved; after all, he could probably make an offer on that house he had looked at. Tami would love it. It had three bedrooms and a pool. It had his and her closets.

Eric stood up, restless. The stress of the past weeks and especially, the last few days had been enormous. The camera crews, the radio talk shows, and the people of the town had combined to create a pressure cooker environment.

He felt the muscles in his jaw spasm. Hands on his hips, he looked from one goal post back to the other. Everything in his life hinged on what happened on _this_ field. These one hundred yards of turf. His home, his livelihood…his success or failure. All of it depended upon the outcome of a football game. A game not even played by men, but by boys. Boys who were filled with enthusiasm and a certain innocence. Innocent of the costs of the game. Of the price they may pay for playing. A price Jason had already paid.

How many others would have to pay so that he could have his and her closets? Eric turned and kicked the bench, sending it flying over onto its back. _His and her goddamn closets! _

He hung his head, the sting behind his eyelids returning.

This time, he didn't fight it.


End file.
